


Kill of the Night

by Ketlingr



Category: Frostiron - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: FrostIron - Freeform, Insanity, Intense, Love, M/M, Obsession, POV Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ketlingr/pseuds/Ketlingr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He was going to take his sanity, he was going to take his heart."</p><p>Loki has cast an eye on Tony Stark and a dark obsession is forming in his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill of the Night

* * *

Long, slender fingers were gripping an absinthe glass, the grasp's force in stark contrast to the delicacy of both the holder and the object held. It was hovering idly before its bearer's face and a fierce stare lingered over the brim of the glass, fixed on a figure moving in the distance. The eyes fathering the vigilant gaze mirrored the colour of the absinthe that had sat untouched for some time now, virgin to both sugar or water. The thoughts roaming the observer's mind were not quite as chaste.

His elbow resting on the table before him, he enjoyed the gloomy corner booth, shielding him from the bustling of the crowd. Dim light set the whole bar in the shades of dark brandy, a colour echoed by the liquid swirling in Tony Stark's tumbler, and again, Loki knew, in the man's eyes, even though they were impossible to make out from this far away.

For hours the god of mischief had followed Stark around the bar with his eyes, never once moving himself. The way that man wove a web of charm and charisma to entangle the vain women who were his pray angered Loki. It made him want to work his own spells on Stark, to conjure curling, creeping bonds to capture him, restrain him and have him to his will. If only looks were enough to lure him into darkness, Tony Stark would already be his.

A growl built low in the god's throat when the man of his desire settled to sit with one of the faceless females at the bar. The flash of Stark's smile made Loki bare his teeth, the way Stark made the woman blush made Loki want to drive the colour from her face. Stark's voice carried over to the booth and Loki took a deep breath, as though trying to inhale the sound of it, when all he really wanted to hear was the beating of Stark's heart when he came. The moaning, the panting, the begging – Loki would wear him out to his last drop of sweat, he would tear down any resistance, he would find every nerve of Stark's body and tease it until it lay bare.

When Stark threw back his head in laughter, exposing his neck, Loki could not help but let his mind follow the vulnerable skin down beneath the fabric of Stark's shirt, imagining the salty taste of his collar bone, of the blood he would draw when he sank his teeth into the other man's skin. Would it trickle down unhindered or find itself tangled in dark curls?

_ Smooth _ , Loki decided, and if not he would shave him, toying with the razor while Stark held his breath and flinched at the sharp edge of the blade. And with the metal taste of the man's blood on his tongue, Loki would kiss him, demanding every last breeze of air from his lungs until Stark would hold on to him, desperately. It was not going to be the last release the man would crave.

But there was more than that, more than driving Stark to the edge, draining him of all energy, Loki wanted more. He was going to take his sanity, he was going to take his heart. Bit by bit, Loki was going to dismantle all of Stark's defences, strip him of his armour, of his clothes, of his mind and genius and whatever feral creature were to remain Loki would tame and submit to his every wish.

* * *

He was wishing back the distrust and suspicion. Anything but the acceptance and integration he was being shown. Loki's lips were a tight line drawn beneath flaring nostrils when he was not even taken notice of as he left his quarters, the apartment and, finally, the tower. Nobody cared where he was going, because to them, he was harmless without his magic and his tricks. Oh, but they were underestimating him.

Often Loki was offered things to occupy him with, but he had no need for them. There was only one thing on his mind, an obsession that plagued Loki every hour of the day and followed him into his dreams. And when he did not sleep, Loki followed  _ him _ .

The air was biting cold, giving the trickster an excuse to wrap himself up, disguise himself. Stripped of his powers, of his illusions and conjuration, he still knew how to make himself invisible, how to blend in with his surroundings and become a shadow to the man he loved. And just like a shadow would, Loki's eyes followed his every movement. The dip of his chin when he greeted the waitress, the way he lowered his head when his eyes took in her behind after she took his order, the casual flick of his wrist as he whipped out his phone while waiting for his morning coffee.

Loki caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window and found himself longing for Tony Stark to look up, to meet his eyes, to see Loki like the god was seeing himself now and realise, for once, how much Loki needed him. How he wished Stark would return his attention and see the potential that lay in their relationship. Why were they not talking right now? Why were they not sharing that table he was sitting at?

One day they would. One day, Loki knew, he would hold Stark's heart in his hands, to watch over it and make it his most precious possession. One day, the were going to be lovers.

No matter how often Tony rejected Loki, did not notice his needs or brushed off his advances as mockery, the god of lies would not let him dismiss their future like that. What they could have, what they would be – it was clear before Loki like a painting, but Stark was blind to its shapes. It was a song, but Tony was deaf to its melody. However, Loki would teach him, patiently.

Because giving up was not a possibility. There was no glory in defeat and the thought alone struck Loki with repulsion and agony in equal parts. Even though there were times he could barely breathe, barely cope with lying in his bed alone, awake to the image of Tony's head in his hands and find nothing but air taunting him. Those were the mornings he cried himself back to blissful sleep. Those were the nights he tore up from the inside. Those were the brief moments it came down to when sleep was stronger than the obsession.

_ I will have you _ , was Loki's steady mantra, the prayer that he felt was all that kept him sane. He would have Stark, capture him and lock him away, like a rare animal. And Stark was dangerous and wild indeed, a look of his enough to wound Loki deeply with its coldness, its contempt cutting like the sharpest claws.

It was late at night when Loki found himself in Stark's rooms, revelling in the smell of his sheets, losing himself in the images of what could be his. Any moment, the trickster knew, Stark was bound to return here and find him. Loki imagined the realisation in his eyes and saw himself pulling the man down onto the bed, holding him there until his resistance subsided. It was times like these, when his curiosity prevailed his caution, that Loki was aware of his obsession and shied away from it, as though he had burnt himself.

His nights offered no more rest. The darkness that had cloaked him now held nothing but icy cold and any fire Loki sought to warm himself at shed more shadows than light.

* * *

Long, slender fingers were gripping an absinthe glass, the grasp as delicate as both the holder and the object held. It was sitting idly on the mahogany table and eyes lost in thought stared at it, fixed on something that was not there, a memory, a distant image. They mirrored the colour of the absinthe that had sat untouched for some time now, clouded with sugar and water and not the first of its kind to have passed the hand of Loki tonight. The thoughts roaming the brooder's mind were just as clouded.

His arm resting on the table before him, hand curled around his glass, his figure was slumped, a hopeless heap of self-pity. The bar's brandy colour seemed to fade the closer it got to him. Whether it fled from his dark thoughts or gathered around Stark's glowing personality, Loki could not say, but he wished he himself could do either.

For how long had he dreamed of sharing Stark's attention? All the fantasies that had occupied his mind had long since turned to madness, his dreams to nightmares. Tired eyes, framed by dark shadows, lifted themselves off the green liquid and found the bronze one dancing in Stark's hand.

His mind tipped like the glass it was in, following it as it moistened the man's lips, caressed his tongue and ran down his throat, becoming a part of him like Loki felt he never would. Still, all of him longed to be just that, no more, no less. Had he still had his magic, he would have done anything, become anyone just to make Stark want him. To feel Stark's hand on his waist like this woman could, Loki was willing to burn worlds.

But the only thing he burned was himself, his sanity, his heart, day by day that he watched his love turn from one short-lived flame to the other, suffocating them all in the process because unlike Loki, they needed more than Stark to breathe. Lowering his eyes back to the table, Loki emptied his glass, drowning the fire that consumed his soul.

* * *

'Love is blindness' they say, and for the first time in years, Loki could see himself again. Not as a reflection in someone else's window. Not in the imaginary arms of the man he loved. But as he stood, by himself, he could see himself as he was. His struggle had been a long one and it had been solitary. Because that was his fate and it was how he was strongest – alone.

A freedom that he had not felt in too long forced a smile on his face. The happiness was almost sickening – a high so high he could barely see the low he had come from.

The hardest part during all his work had been to keep up the façade, just as he had during his obsession. If the Avengers heard of the cure, they would know of the curse. And that was something Loki could never let happen, because his obsession had been a battle he had lost with himself – and even though he had turned the tables now, there was never any glory in defeat. However, the castle he had built himself out of the ruins he had found himself in were but a house of cards and it took just one blow to set them aflame. And Tony Stark's eyes shimmered with hope and insecurity as he watched Loki's mind burn to the ground.

_ ”Loki, I... I love you.” _

Dumbstruck, falling, frozen, screaming.

If love was blindness, Loki wanted to claw out his eyes. As his numb fingers ran over the smooth skin he had so often imagined himself touching, Loki wanted to drown in darkness, but there was too much air, too much space, too much light. And yet he could not breathe.

Tony's words were but a knife in Loki's chest, twisting, digging for the heart that he had long before scooped out with a spoon and left behind. There was nothing left to find, not even darkness, not even the depraved shadows of Loki's desire. Only suffering and agony.

Dumbstruck, falling, frozen, screaming.

* * *

Long, slender fingers were gripping an absinthe glass, the grasp's force in stark contrast to the delicacy of both the holder and the object held. It was shaking before its bearer's face and a haunted stare lingered over the brim of the glass, fixed on a figure moving in the distance. The eyes fathering the saturnine gaze mirrored the colour of the absinthe that had sat untouched for some time now, virgin to both sugar or water. The thoughts roaming the observer's mind were not quite as chaste.

His elbow resting on the table before him, Loki sat silently in the gloomy corner booth, shielding himself from the eyes of his lover. Dim light set the whole bar in the shades of dark brandy, a colour echoed by the liquid swirling in Stark's tumbler, and again, Loki knew, in the man's eyes, even though they were impossible to make out from this far away.

These eyes had been looking up at him full of unfamiliar trust and longing. Every morning they were the first thing Loki would see, every night he knew they were watching over him as he drifted off to sleep. But now it seemed as though the did not even know he was here, while Stark was joking with his friends, unsuspecting of the things on Loki's mind.

Finally, the god of lies had made his way into Stark's heart and he knew he held the fragile thing in the palm of his hand and he knew that nobody could take that away from him unless he let go. Like a spider he had nested there, waiting to strike, waiting to hurt Stark where he could do most harm. Never was Loki going to give away how much he had suffered watching this man live without him, never was he going to reveal how broken he was, not until he had broken Stark to pieces.

When Stark threw back his head, laughing at the joke of a friend, exposing his neck, Loki knew he would drive him to the point where he would choke on his laughter, where he would wish he was bleeding out from his neck rather than suffering at the hand of his lover. For the hell Stark had put him through was going to be his home and it was going to follow him like the shadow Loki had been, leaving him nowhere to run, no safe place to hide in.

Now that they were as one, now that Loki knew Stark's every shape, the taste of his lips, of his sweat, of his blood – now he could poison the man he had once loved, poison him with lies and kisses and Stark would never know who was driving him insane.

This was the feral creature Stark had made of Loki – and Tony Stark was going to be his kill of the night.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> More than just the story's title was based on Gin Wigmore's "Kill of the Night" - and some other songs had their share of influence, too. 
> 
> By now it's half past four in the morning, yet I hope my brain spared all of us typos and other mistakes. 
> 
> If you want any warnings or tags added, please give me a shout.


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